


Headfirst

by Resilience



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly worship, Blowjobs, Chubby Kink, F/M, Feedism, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Stuffing, Weight Gain, chubby hopper, fat hopper, feeder joyce byers, very little fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 11:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19869211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resilience/pseuds/Resilience
Summary: This is my first fic in like 7 years and I am beyond public scrutiny after so long of not writing. I wrote this for myself because this is what I want to read and it doesn't exist yet lol so here, enjoy the fruit of my efforts.  It's not really editted much, but I'll be adding more chapters so some things might change or sound better in the future. I really don't care enough right now to edit more. I just wanna get it out there in the wild.This is all sex. It's alllllll sex and descriptions of weight gain and food stuffing and all the things we want to do but can't for one reason or another. I do want it the story to be pretty linear so the first chapter is just establishing what's happened, where we're at, and things to come (like Hop and Joyce HEYHEY).





	Headfirst

**Author's Note:**

> Trademark Superstringtheory "The Game" as reference to one of their fics about Hopper. Thanks for getting be back in the game man.

It's not something he is personally into. He knows the Game (trademark superstringtheory), he knows what the end results are, and that's the only reason why he does it. 

The gaining is for Joyce. She's made it very clear how it affects her, and he's willing to do absolutely anything to keep turning her on like that. But, the food, the feeling of being stuffed to the gills, that's for him. It's a passive act, a mind-consuming feeling that's better than pill popping, better than getting drunk every day. Passing out in front of the tv filled with too much food, so focused on the pain and pleasure of an overstuffed gut, is a great distraction from Mike and El...canoodling and whatnot....in her room.

That's practically where we find Hopper on a daily basis though, and it's taking a toll on his sanity. 

"THREE INCHES, EL. I mean it!" He glanced over at the crack in the door, definitely not three inches wide. 

He heard a loud, annoyed groan, and the door creaked open. 

Hop was starting to lose his surprise at the likeness to his own disgruntled sounds. Girl's picking up his bad habits....

He shifted in his recliner, trying to get just a little bit more comfortable. Bits of shredded cheese and shell littered his lap from his taco feast. It's a Tuesday, who the hell turns down tacos on Taco Tuesday? It was still early enough in the evening for Hopper to have shot down a single beer, but the 2 tacos he had on the way home (because he's the sheriff, and the sheriff works hard and he deserved a snack for being a sheriff that works so very hard) plus the 3 tacos he saved for supper with El were starting to build up an ache. It was tolerable, but he definitely should have changed out of his uniform when he got home instead of eating right supper away. 

Hop glanced at the clock...quarter to 7. Joyce should be locking up the store soon. And Mike and El would be on there way to Castle Byers for a meetup with the gang soon. Whatever shenanigans they were up to this evening was not Hop's problem....he's off duty until Friday to take on the weekend shift. 

He glanced down, felt his chins announce themselves to the world. Minor setback to eating too much; he appreciated the strength of his jawline for staying so defined throughout the past couple months, because getting fat is a tough business when you have pride in certain things. He'd already jumped up a size in uniform and was very, very close to needing to up a size again. Jim Hopper was already a big man that barely fit into mediums even before Joyce found interest in him and before taking in a pre-puberty El. Now, oh god, he has to deal with boys and puppy love bullshit and the raging hormones that come with puberty for a young girl and her crush. By himself. He was not mentally prepared for this, not 5 years after his only daughters death and definitely not after living in his grief following that.

How else was he supposed to be a good father figure? It's not like he could continue his drug usage as before, he was living for someone else now. It's better to eat and be distracted by those associated feelings than to be drunk or stoned in front of a growing, impressionable child. 

What he hadn't expected to happen from that, though, is Joyce. And her sudden stuttering, unfocused words. Her eyes that wouldn't hold still but kept coming back to the same thing every other second. Her motherly touches reserved for her kids and people she cared for were less of a comforting blanket and more of an intentional graze, quick and fleeting, but like she was testing the air or the texture or the sensation. 

The first time it happened was when he was picking up El's and his evening meal at the Diner, right after work, and it' certainly not like Hopper knew what was happening immediately after it happened. It took time to recognize. 

\----

There was a single, day old donut left in the box of dozen at work, and why should he let those tax dollars go to waste? He was chomping on that, enjoying the cinnamon-buttery sweetness, getting out of his bronco when Joyce pulled up next to him. She got out of her own vehicle as his door slammed shut, and with a chirpy "Hey Hopper," she opened the door to the Diner for him. With a mouthful of donut, he replied "Hi Joyce," and she turned red in the face. They walked inside, her trailing behind him. 

At the counter, they made small talk, and her face was still beat red the entire time. Her eyes swiveled between the register, the door, and Jim's uniform. He must have stained it or something. Joyce was quiet for a beat too long following, so he asked, "You don't feel like cookin tonight?"

"Oh, uh, no," she gave a sweet, short smile, "Tonight was a compromise. I've been working longer shifts this week to cover for a coworker so I'm just....treating the boys to something different and saving myself some energy! What about you, are you treating El?" She sucked in her lower lip, trying to pinch off words. 

"Uhhh...yea haha," Hop scratched his chin, "this is sort of our routine. Can't cook very well, and with my work schedule, cooking dinner every night isn't really any option. We eat out most nights."

Joyce glanced at the countertop, at her fingertips, and Hop's shoes, up his knees, belt buckle, and up to his chin. Hop noticed that one, "is it getting obvious? Ya the triple stack of eggos and whip cream on the weekends don't help either..." he chuckled without humor. 

He looked down and fingered the button straining to hold on, right below his belly button. "Yep. It's obvious. Guess it's time for a new uniform," Hop really did chuckle at that; things weren't getting out of hand, persay, but it was ironic. Dad bods come back with a vengeance apparently. He looked up and saw Joyce's eyes bugged out, hand tapping against the counter, "Mhmm."

"Here ya'll go, sorry for the wait!" The waitress dropped their food off in paper bags, and handed Joyce her check. "Hop, it's on your tab as usual!" She walked away with a wave, disappearing into the kitchen.

Joyce gave him a look, "You have a tab at the diner....?" She put a $20 on the counter for the waitress to pick up. 

"Yea, frequent flyer. Come here probably more than I should." They started walking towards the door, bags of food in hand. 

"Jim, you know...what if you and El came over for dinner every so often? I'm more than happy to cook. I may not be much of one but a homecooked meal might be a nice break from diner food." 

Hopper looked at her. Joyce was always sincere, but he wasn't expecting the offer at all. They were both standing across from each other, each about to head to their vehicles. 

"That would be really nice, I think. Yea. Thanks Joyce. I'll see you around. Just call me, if you need anything." 

"See you around Hopper," She smiled at him, watched him get in his car and drive away before she followed suit. 

\---- 

Looking back now, knowing what he knows, it's so very obvious why she was red in the face. And after recognizing her triggers like the donut, the sloven mouthful of food, the too tight uniform, he gets why it affected her. At the time though, he never would have thought it important to mention any of that for the sake of recanting a story. It would have just been.....she opened the door for him at the diner and got really flustered for no discernible reason. Now that's a boring story, yea?

Given the gory details, it's no surprise he's as packed into his uniform as he is now. Those dinners with Joyce were tasty, filling, and she always had pie afterwards. She really liked feeding him that pie too. She'd push him to eat a couple extra bites more than normal. A couple bites turned into one more slice, then two, and then more than he ever thought he could fit in before. And he eventually caught on that the bigger he got, the more he stuffed himself with, the more handsy she got. He wanted to giver her more to touch, to grab onto and lick and suck.

What he'd give for Joyce Byers hands on him right now.


End file.
